An Almost Made Up Letter
by zenintheart
Summary: Jenna's last words to her son. One-shot.


**Author's Note: After seeing Extraordinary Machine part two I just had to write this. For me this is a letter that Jenna wrote to Tyson and gave to his parents to give him when he was older. This is loosely based on the poem "an almost made up poem" by Charles Bukowski. This poem is my favorite and it's changed my life, honestly. **

**- It's a little bit pathetic that I began writing this after Extraordinary Machine and didn't post it until tonight. Please enjoy.**

Dear Tyson,

It was best like this. Me, giving you away. In my mind you will always be perfect. The perfect baby who calmed at the sound of my guitar. You never had the chance to show me that you're a person, and not an angel. I hope that this works both ways. I hope that by not knowing me you too, can picture me as perfect, except I was - I am - clearly not. This is a gift. To you I can be a good person. When you tell your friends that you're adopted, if they ask about your birth mother, you can make up stories about me. You can tell them I was insanely smart, I wasn't, won all the math competitions, I didn't. You can tell them I was a great artist, I wasn't, got featured in tons of art shows, I didn't. You can tell them I was the kindest, I wasn't, sent Valentine's to the elderly, I didn't. They won't ever know the truth, so go ahead, paint me whichever way you wish. If you're happy, paint me as beautiful, and if you're angry, paint me as a villain.

But you can tell them I loved you very dearly, because I did. But sometimes love just isn't enough.

Just know one thing; if I could've pulled down the moon and given it to you, I would have. You deserve everything, and I couldn't give you everything. I think about you every day, and I'm sure I will for the rest of my life. I miss you so much, but I can never regret giving you up. Sometimes, when you love someone you have to give them what you can't, and if that means letting them go, it's important that you do it. When I first took the pregnancy test, I thought I had messed up my life. But I hadn't. Sometimes the things that make you the happiest are the things that don't make you happy at first. You were a bump to me. Just a small bump. You were my swollen ankles, my tender breasts, my compressed bladder. But as soon as I delivered you, you were more than that. You were a baby and from the moment I first saw your small head with its not fully formed skull. I loved you.

I think of you often, Tyson. I went to visit you today, and you're big now. Bigger than I remember, and your mom she asked me if I wanted to hold you, but I couldn't. I wish I could have baby, I really do, but if I had I don't think I would have ever been able to give you back. It took me five months to come visit you, nine invitations from your parents. Pathetic, I know. I really wanted to accept. I walked by your home so many times during those five months. I stopped on the other side of the sidewalk and watched as your daddy paced around inside with you, or fed you a bottle. It's crazy how much you've changed in only five months. You're teething, and I know it hurts. It hurts me to see you cry as your little teeth start poking through your gums. You had a toy today, a small plastic ring of keys that your mom took out of the freezer and gave to you. She told me that while you play with your toy, as you put it in your mouth, the cold numbs the pain. I wouldn't have known to get one of those for you, I didn't even know they made them. I wouldn't have gotten one for you and you would've been in more pain.

I won't be visiting you anymore.

You go on. You make something of yourself. You don't ever forget that you're thought about everyday by someone you don't know, a total stranger. I'll love you like a person loves someone they've never met, only keeps little photographs of. I have one in my wallet. It's kind of bent, but it's the only picture of you that I have. In it you're being held to my chest, your mouth is open in a toothless 'O' as you stare at me, and I'm staring back. I'm smiling, I think your father took the picture, but I'm smiling like I never did before. I'm smiling like a true artist reveling in their masterpiece. I've written many songs, some good, some not so good, but by far, you are my best creation. By the time you read this letter, if you ever do read it, I won't be in Toronto anymore. Your mother is a good person, and I have faith that one day she'll get this letter to you. Even if she never does, she's still a good woman; a good mom.

I never really knew my parents, my mother, your biological grandmother I guess, she left my family when I was six years old. She moved to Memphis and she never called. My brother Kyle, your biological uncle, he was thirteen when she left. It must have been harder for him than for me, but he was a lot stronger than the other boys his age. He loved you too Tyson. Every birthday I had, I would sit by the telephone waiting for my mom to call. She never did. Every night at 11:58, my birthday about to end, Kyle would hold me and tell me that Mom would have called if she could and that she was probably busy. He never wanted to appear weak to me, but I saw his glances towards the telephone on his birthdays, he never left the house on those days for fear that Mom would call and he would miss it. Then, when I was eleven years old, Dad came home and told us that Mom was dead. She had broken her foot and not had enough money to get help for it. It got infected and the infection spread to the rest of her body, and she died. My father wouldn't leave his room, he just sat there chain smoking and watching television. He lost his job and Kyle quit school to start working at a bait and tackle shop to support us. I thought my dad was gone too, but then he got a job as a truck driver. That kept him on the move. He liked getting out and never having to stay one place for a long time. Soon after Kyle became my guardian and we moved to Toronto.

If you had grown up with me as your mom, I would have been unfair to you, and maybe you to me. It was best like this.

Love always,

Jenna Madison Middleton


End file.
